Praise of the dairy-maid, with a lick at the cream-pot, or fading rose. To the tune of, Packington's pound.

〈…〉 E Praise of the DAIRY-MAID , With a Lick at the CREAM-POT , or Fading ROSE . To the Tune of , Packington's Pound . LEt Wine turn a Spark , and Ale huff like a Hector ; let Pluto drink Coffee , and Jove his rich Nectar ; Neither Cider nor Sherry , Metheglin nor Perry , shall more make me Drunk , which the vulgar call Merry : These Drinks o're my Fancy no more shall prevail , but I 'le take a full soep at the mery Milk-Pail . II . In praise of a Dairy I purpose to sing ; But all things in order ; first , God save the King , And the Queen I may say , That ev'ry May-day , Has many fair Dairy-Maids all fine and gay . Assist me , fair Dam'sels , to finish this Theme , And inspire my fancy with Strawberries and Cream . III . The first of fair Dairy-Maids , if you 'll believe , Was Adam's own Wife , your Great-grand-mother Eve : She milk'd many a Cow , As well she knew how , Tho' Butter was then not so cheap as 't is now ; She hoarded no Butter nor Cheese on a Shelf , For the Butter and Cheese in those days made it self . IV . In that Age or Time there was no damn'd Money , Yet the Children of Israel sed on Milk and Honey ; No Queen you could see Of the highest Degree , But would milk the brown Cow with the meanest she ; Their Lambe gave them Clothing , their Cows gave them Meat . In a plentiful Peace all their Joys were compleat . V. But now of the making of Cheese we shall treat , That Nurser of Subjects , bold Britains chief Meat ; When they first begin it , To see how the Rennet Begets the first Curd , you wou'd wonder what 's in it ; Then from the blue Whey , when they put the Curds by , They look just like Amber , or Clouds in the Sky . VI . Your Turkey Sherbet , and Arrabian Tea , Is Dish-water-stuff to a Dish of new Whey ; For it cools Head and Brains , Ill Vapours it drains , And tho' your Guts rumble , 't will ne'r hurt your Brains . Court-Ladies i' th' morning will drink a whole Pottle , And send out their Pages with Tankard and Bottle . VII Thou Daughter of Milk , and Mother of Butter , Sweet Cream , thy due praises how shall I utter ! For when at the best , A thing 's well expresst , We are apt to reply , That 's the Cream of the Jest : Had I been a Mouse , I believe in my Soul I had long since been drowned in a Cream-Bowl . VIII The Elixir of Milk , the Dutch-mens delight , By mo 〈…〉 and tumbling thou bringest to light ; But Oh , the soft Stream That remains of the Cream ! Old Morpheus ne'r tasted so sweet in a Dream ; It removes all Obstructions , depresses the Spleen , And makes an old Bawd li●e a Wench of Fifteen . IX . Amongst the rare Virtues that Milk does produce , A thousand more Dainties are daily in use ; For a Pudding I 'll tell ye , E'r it goes in the Belly , Must have of good Milk both the Cream and the Jelly ; For a dainty fine Pudding without Cream or Milk , Is like a Citizen's Wife without Satten or Silk X. In the Virtues of Milk there 's more to be muster'd , The charming Delights of Cheese-Cake and Custard ; For at Totenham Court You can have no Sport , Unless you give Custards and Cheese-Cakes for 't : And what 's the Jack Pudding that makes you to laugh , Unless he hath got a great Custard to quaff . XI . Both Pan-cakes and Fritters of Milk have good store , But a Devonshire White-pot requires much more . No state you can think , Tho' you study and wink , From the lusty Sack-Posset to poor Poss●t-Drink ; But Milk's the Ingredient , tho' Sack's ne'r the worse ; For 't is Sack makes the Man , tho' Milk makes the Nurse . XII . But now I shall treat of a Dish that is cool , A rich clouted Cream , or a Goose-berry-Fool ; A Lady I heard tell , Not far off did dwell , Made her Husband a Fool , and yet pleas'd him full well : Give thanks to the Dairy then every Lad , That from good-natur'd Women such Fools may be had , XIII . When the Dam'sel has got the Cows Teat in her hand , How she merrily sings , whiles smiling I stand ; Then with pleasure I rub , Yet impatient I scrub , When I think of the Blessings of a Syllabub : Oh Dairy-maids , Milk-maids , such Bliss ne'r oppose , If e'r you 'll be happy ; I speak under the Rose . XIV . This Rose was a Maiden once of your Profession , Till the Rake and the Spade had taken possession ; At length it was said , That one Mr. Ed. mond did both dig and sow in her Parsley-bed ; But the Fool for his labour deserves not a Rush , For grafting a Thistle upon a Rose-Bush . XV . Now Milk-maids , take warning by this Maidens fall , Keep what is your own , and then you keep all ; Mind well your Milk-pan , And ne'r touch a man , And you 'll still be a Maid , let him do what he can , I am your well-wisher , then list to my word , And give no more Milk than the Cow can afford ,